Are you listening, dear?
by Water-please
Summary: An intruder in Lisbon's apartment. Riddles. Murder. Green-blue eyes boring into green ones. What is it that you wish for most? - COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**The Mentalist – Are you listening, dear?**

**Summary**

An intruder in Lisbon's apartment. Riddles. Murder. Green-blue eyes boring into green ones. What is it that you wish for most?

**Disclaimer**

If it was mine, I'd have "Blonde Consultant" on my menu on a regular basis.

**Rating **solid **T** for language and romantic scenes, and more. Please let me know if rating should be changed.

**Category **Romance

**A/N: This is a story I dreamt of last night. It didn't leave me alone, so here it is.**

**First time for a TM story, so please be gentle.**

**It isn't beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine.**

**WARNING: I couldn't resist adding some water to the wine, or rather arsenic. If you prefer pure fluff, stop reading at the end of chapter 1. **

**If you're ready for some cruel ending which you may resent (and throw tomatoes at me for), go on. **

**You have been warned.**

* * *

Teresa Lisbon was tired to the bone. Exhausted, would be a better way to describe it. It was 2 a.m. on Saturday morning, and she had just returned home from work, the weekend _finally_ having arrived.

She locked her front door, tossed her keys on the little console next to her door, and was just about to fling her jacket and boots aside, when an unfamiliar movement in her apartment alerted her cop senses.

In a blink, she drew her weapon, and pointed it towards the figure now emerging from the darkness. "FREEZE!" She shouted, gun drawn, finger at the trigger.

The other person in her apartment jumped, and a very familiar voice she'd have recognized in a million others, held up his hands, and said in exasperation: "Hold your gun, woman. It's me!"

"Jane! You jackass! Are you fucking insane? I could have shot you!" Lisbon angrily snapped at her wayward consultant, wanting to rip his head off for intruding into her apartment, and having the *nerve* to chastise her for the ability to defend herself. Flicking the lights on, she felt the adrenaline in her blood to pump her heart at an impossible rate. (_Now way_ this had anything to do with the presence of a certain male colleague/friend/_whatever_ at 2 a.m. in her apartment, looking positively delicious. No, none whatsoever.)

Jane's smile was all too familiar, and Teresa's heart made a curious lurch. Two weeks of absence, and her every fiber wanted to fling herself into his arms, assuring herself of his presence.

But no.

She bravely ignored it. Her nerves were only betraying her - must be the tiredness.

Jane's voice was warm, albeit teasing. "Language, Teresa. And before you chew my head off, my dear, check your phone. I *had* announced that I'd come to visit. You didn't think to turn your phone back on after your meeting with Bertram, did you?"

Teresa hadn't, in fact, but she'd rather swallow her tongue than to admit it, least of all to him. "Jane, I'm tired." She tried to deflect. "You've decided to show up again after two weeks of absence, after all that's happened after our shooting of Red John, the paperwork, the media coverage, well – all of it in fact. I got your texts, knowing you're all right, … and – " She lost steam somehow, looking into his gorgeous blue-green eyes, now with a slight disappointed shining in it. "And I'm glad to see you", she added lamely, softening her harsh tone. "So please make it quick. What do you want?"

"You." He said softly, a small smile on his lips.

Teresa gaped at him, open-mouthed, and needed a second to decipher what he was up to. Screening his handsome features, she saw the glint in his eyes, and interpreted it to her best knowledge.

"Oh, I get it. This is another one of your crazy schemes, right? OK, listen, Jane. I'm up since 6 a.m. this morning, and I just got back from a tedious meeting - which you'd have known, by the way, had you bothered to return my calls, instead of just brooding alone in Malibu - and all I want now is to go upstairs, crawl into bed, and not leave it until Monday morning."

"Sounds good." Jane replied, unfazed. "Let's go then." And he moved towards her, still with a strange glimmer in his eyes, which Lisbon still couldn't quite place.

"W-what?" Teresa stammered, gob smacked. Did Patrick _friggin'_ Jane just propose to go _bed_ with her? She must have suffered brain damage from sleep deprivation, or have been hypnotized. - No, that's what Jane was usually trying to do, and he hadn't been doing his usual stuff with her (quite the contrary, even. His smile, and that sparkle in his gaze told her a story long forgotten - about prayers answered, desires fulfilled, wishes granted, dreams coming true, including a very naked blonde consultant, who took her - … she resolutely stomped this particular thought down.). Drugs, then. Did Bertram perhaps slip her a pill, or spiked her coffee? She racked the sorry remnants of her brain to deduce the cause of her malfunctioning hearing ability.

Jane meanwhile read the confusion and frown on her beautiful face, and felt at home for the first time in two weeks. He flashed her a blinding smile, a genuine one, and that made it all the more dangerous for Teresa, getting warm all down to her toes, cheeks flaring. She felt her knees go weak.

This wouldn't do, not at all. Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon of the California Bureau of Investigation did NOT get all rosy-cheeked, or weak-kneed, just because a very attractive … well, her joints had to be in top condition, period. No matter the company.

"I'll make some tea. You're as exhausted as I am, obviously." She put as much resolution into her voice as possible, and turning on her heel, so as not to give him a chance to respond, and marched purposefully towards her kitchen. And, completely coincidentally, as far from him as possible. She needed a clear head, stat.

Jane's voice drifted towards her like a soft caress, crushing her hopes of getting a clear head. „I sold the house in Malibu. My first instinct was to burn it to the ground, but then again – it makes me happier to erase the bad memories with good ones instead. May another family fill the rooms with laughter, cheerfulness, and life again."

He must have followed her, for she could suddenly feel his breath next to her ear, his hands resting on the kitchen counter on both her sides, effectively boxing her in.

"Teresa." He whispered softly to her neck, his lips just a fraction away from her skin. She tried to suppress a shudder, but failed miserably, as she thought about his sensual lips, at which she had tried not to stare at for the better part of the last decade, so tantalizingly close.

Jane dipped his nose to her skin, observing her pulse point, whose hectic flutter betrayed the state of mind the object of his desire, in fact the object of all his desires from this point on, was in.

His hands slid from the kitchen counter to her hips, as he inhaled the bedazzling scent of her hair and skin, all creamy white in color, cinnamon and apples threatening to bewitch his senses. How he could have gone without that heavenly aroma for the last fourteen days was beyond him. Well, if he had his way, he'd never had to be without it for the rest of his life. And Patrick Jane was used to get what he wanted.

Teresa was close to fainting upon feeling his strong, warm hands on her hips. She clung to the counter in front of her for sheer balance, but when she sensed him sniffing her hair, she could take it no more, and turned around.

- End of chapter 1 –

**A/N 2: So far, so good. Please let me know what you think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**The Mentalist – Are you listening, dear?**

**Summary**

An intruder in Lisbon's apartment. Riddles. Murder. Green-blue eyes boring into green ones. What is it that you wish for most?

**Disclaimer**

My easter basket was empty. So that's a no.

**Rating **solid **T** for language and romantic scenes, and more. Please let me know if rating should be changed.

**Category **Romance

**A/N: This is a story I dreamt of. It didn't leave me alone, so here it is.**

**First time for a TM story, so please be gentle.**

**It isn't beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine.**

**WARNING: I couldn't resist adding some water to the wine, or rather arsenic. If you prefer pure fluff, stop reading at the ****Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**. 

**If you're ready for some cruel/weird/disturbing ending which you may resent (and throw tomatoes at me for), go on. **

**You have been warned.**

**Thank you for the guest reviews! I appreciate your feedback.**

Previously:

_She clung to the counter in front of her for sheer balance, but when she sensed him sniffing her hair, she could take it no more, and turned around. _

She found herself in his arms.

She rested her hands against his chest, and looked up to him, utterly confused. She could count on two hands the times when they had touched, and now, all of a sudden, and seemingly out of nowhere, he decided to up the ante? Her questioning look made Jane smile even broader.

"Well, my love, are you surprised to find us here? Haven't you been listening to me all this time?" Jane knew his smile was not at all his usual self, now all goofy and lighthearted, but he didn't give a damn. He had the woman of his dreams in his arms, and not even an earthquake could make him let go.

Teresa's mind reeled. 'Love?' If this was some cruel game of his, she had to know now. And if that was the case, she was in the perfect position to take revenge - her knee was the perfect weapon to inflict serious damage on his groin.

Not able to form a single word, she did the only thing she still was capable of. She rose on her tiptoes, and kissed him, hard.

She should not have worried. His answer was all she needed to know, for in an instant, he had her pulled flush towards him, his full body length in alignment to hers, molding her softness against his hardening body, and grabbed a handful of her silken hair, the other hand busily exploring her butt, hitherto forbidden territory. He didn't remember groping her in his fugue state, but this was indefinitely better anyway. This was the real thing, and she reciprocated – full willing, and with enthusiasm.

In a blink, they both transformed into Sacramento's horniest, hottest, aggressive two-backed animal, each even more greedy to taste the other, fatigue or sleepiness utterly forgotten.

Jane backed Teresa towards her counter, hoisted her up, never breaking contact of their lips, and began to unbutton her blouse. Her hands meanwhile were busy forking through his soft hair, each new touch on his hair or skin causing her desire for him to flare up even more, and she clung to him with ever increasing passion.

Jane was in no different state, but being used to rule over his emotions with an iron fist, could control his actions slightly better than Teresa – but barely.

He considered briefly to let their first time be on Teresa's kitchen counter, but thought better of it. He was a man of style, after all. So he lifted her up again from the furniture, and delighted in feeling her legs immediately wrapping around his waist, and steered towards her bedroom.

This would be a night to remember, and he bet with himself how many times he could make her cry out his name on this first of many nights.

Four times at least, he thought to himself, smiling against her lips, gently laying her down on her bed.

**Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

April Robinshore brought her husband to climax in the room once inhabited by Patrick Jane and his late wife.

With her pregnancy that far advanced, she didn't have many choices how to join with her man, but she didn't complain. By riding him, she was able to face the wall where the calling card of Red John had been.

It was an honor, really, to fuck with the emblem of her hero just in front of her. Her husband had insisted to paint over the - for him - gruesome smiley face, but if she squinted, she imagined to still making out the lines written in blood.

She smiled to herself, riding even harder, pretending that it was Red John, her teacher and protector, and not her dull husband, whose name she sometimes almost forgot, she was currently on top of (not that Red John ever had allowed her to be in that particular position.). But her 'dear hubby' provided her with the necessary disguise, which she would need some time soon. She longed for the day when she could finally pursue her real talent again, instead of cleaning, cooking, and watching the kids. Cutting her objects open with finesse, and of course the least intent possible to let the gutted object live, was what she excelled at, and found her real pleasure in.

There were not too many female serial killers, she knew, and she was proud to say that her work was already beginning to make her famous. The police didn't suspect a think, of course. She was very careful to vary her MO enough not to ring any bells.

Her objects were always women in their forties, excellent in their business, but childless. That was an important part of her preference for her prey. She didn't care if the object in question was childless by choice or due to a medical condition.

As soon as the magical age of four decades was crossed, with no visual proof for the will to procreate, they were in April's crosshairs. The rest was only a matter of time, planning, and resources. As a mother used to run a family with five members, and still counting, planning, multitasking, and clever use of her means was second nature.

She smiled to herself at the memories of her initiations, led by the glorious man himself. Thinking about her first object, and how he had showed her how to inflict pain in the highest amount possible, without killing them off immediately, brought her to climax, closely followed by her husband, whom she almost had forgotten entirely. In her mind, she was always filled with the beautiful mind of her hero, Red John.

As she lay panting next to her betrothed, she quickly calculated her timeline. The next object was already picked, and she would be immensely amused if her work would arouse the attention of Patrick Jane himself. After all, his dumb-witted shadow, CBI Agent Teresa Lisbon, had been putting herself on top of April's list, for so many reasons.

She chuckled to herself in the light of this possible irony. Her and her team were responsible for the tragic demise of her idol, and it would be the height of praise if she, April Robinshore, would be able to exact revenge for his untimely death.

Well, maybe they would cross paths again. You always meet twice in life, it was said, after all.

.END.

**A/N:**

**Tomatoes ready? Well, give it your best shot. **

**Some note to the RJ issue: I have no idea when or even _if_ the case will be solved. But if it is, Jane would need some time to adjust to the new situation, and come to the decision what to do with his life. But this is not what I wanted to write about.**

**For my fic, I wanted him to return to Lisbon, pin her to the next available wall, and kiss her senseless. And that's what I did. Hope you liked it.**


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